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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683816">Here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksilverbubble/pseuds/pinksilverbubble'>pinksilverbubble</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>milkcow au [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Clark Kent is Not Superman, M/M, Milkcow Bruce Wayne, Minor Injuries, alternate universe - cows, milkcows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:26:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksilverbubble/pseuds/pinksilverbubble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark brought Bruce to the Kent farm but he forgot many things, like preparing the milkcow a cubicle beforehand.<br/>And also that Bruce headbutts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>milkcow au [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was listening to Doja Cat’s song Mooo! (Bitch, I’m a cow) while writing this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clark woke up at eight in the morning and started the day with a strong black tea and preparing porridge. There weren’t any strawberries, so he replaced them with blueberries, hoping Bruce liked them too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would usually wake at five in the morning, but they had arrived at home very late the day before and even though Clark just wanted to go back to his room and keep sleeping, he knew he had to take care of Bruce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last night had been a mess, because Clark had forgotten that he hadn't prepared any cubicle for Bruce before going to Harrison’s farm. So in the middle of a cold November night, they had tried to prepare the cubicle while they were tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it had been nice, because Clark had seen more of Bruce’s character. The milkcow hadn’t hidden his displeasure to come to an empty and dusty cubicle but had shown that he actually had liked cleaning and preparing his living space the way he wanted it. But in the end, they hadn’t been able to do much because they were tired and there was just</span>
  <em>
    <span> too much</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do, so Bruce had slept in the house, in a guest room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had decided, while trying to prepare the cubicle and failing, that Clark should go and buy paint for the walls at the local hardware store the next day. However, Clark wanted Bruce to come with him. It was his cubicle and he should be able to choose whichever colour he wanted the walls to be. Now, bringing a milkcow or a bull to a store wasn’t something done much. Actually, it was never done. It was extremely rare. There was no law against it (there was only a problem if the milkcow or bull was not accompanied) but it was just not done. It was surely because if milkcows or mostly bulls got angry, they could easily lose control and hurt people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Clark could see Bruce was an extremely calm milkcow who had his shit together. He thought the risks of him losing it and hurting someone were low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark also needed to visit the town hall and make an appointment with the cow register. Now that Bruce was him, he had to officialize it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the porridge was ready, Clark ate his part and saved Bruce’s. He didn’t want to go and wake up the milkcow. He was surely extremely exhausted and needed all the sleep he could get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce did wake up, hours later. He ate his porridge in silence while Clark checked his phone, sitting next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once you’re done, we’re going to the local hardware store.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked at him. “We?” he asked. The surprise in his voice was noticeable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we. I thought… The cubicle is yours. You should be able to decide which colour the walls should be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce scrutinised his face for a few seconds that felt like a whole minute, but then he lowered his gaze to his empty bowl. “Okay,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded. “Go and change. I’ll wait for you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce did as told and went upstairs. He came down as Clark  finished cleaning the kitchen, wearing one of his blue uniforms and a black jacket on top of it. Clark furrowed his brows when he noticed the words ‘Harrison Farm’ embroidered on the top left part of the jacket. He got up and went towards Bruce to inspect it. It was a patch and Clark was happy that he could just unravel it and replace it with one with his name on it, because right now, buying a whole new wardrobe for Bruce was out of question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark wasn’t broke but actually, he kind of was. The farm needed lots of renovations and he still had debts and a daycare to pay. Maybe buying a milkcow that was twice an average cow’s price hadn’t been the best idea but now that Bruce was here with him, he wasn’t going to think about that and regret his decision. What had been done was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So a new wardrobe wasn’t possible but Clark knew how to sew and he could order patches with his name. It would be a lot cheaper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remind me to order patches,” he said as he let go of Bruce’s jacket and led him outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got on the truck and Clark started driving to Smallville’s center, where the hardware store was. The ride was silent. On both sides of the road were corn fields stretching to the horizon as if they were infinite. Bruce was watching them through the window, his forehead against the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally arrived at their destination and Clark parked the truck, he was extremely happy to get out of the vehicle. He didn’t know for Bruce, but the silence had been extremely awkward for him. They hadn’t exchanged a word and Clark had wanted to. He wanted to communicate and form a bond with the milkcow. However, he didn’t know if the milkcow wanted it. Maybe he preferred the silence or he just wasn’t ready yet to interact fully with Clark. Maybe he should give the week off to the milkcow, so he would get used to his new home and to his new master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old hardware store hadn’t changed much in Clark’s lifetime. It was the same layout, with the same cracks on the walls that still needed reparation after thirty years. The store was empty and the only cashier was a teenager, clearly working there on weekends to get some pocket money. He didn’t glance up to them when they entered the store. He was more interested in his phone, but then, a few seconds later, he did put it down and turn to face them. His eyes widened as he saw Bruce, but he didn’t comment on the milkcow’s presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, how can I help you?” he said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark didn’t know him and hadn’t any memories of a red haired boy when he had left Smallville for Metropolis years ago. He surely had come into town after his departure. ‘Joshua’ was written with a bold marker on his name tag in an uncaring way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark greeted him and asked him where the paint isle was and the young man shoved them immediately. He looked wary of Bruce, surely because he wasn’t used to seeing a milkcow in the store, or just out of a farm’s limits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark paid it no mind. He looked at the different paint cans as Joshua left. Bruce was standing behind him, looking out through the very far window of the store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bruce,” he called, “What colour do you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce turned to look at him but didn’t say anything. He squinted his eyes as if Clark had told him a riddle and he was trying to solve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whichever you want,” he ended up by saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed. “Bruce, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> cubicle,” he reminded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> farm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might be but the cubicle will still be your living space. You should be able to choose its wall’s colour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded, but the movement was robotic and Clark understood it was an automatic response when he didn’t want to talk. He sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed his finger on the different cans and lifted one from the shelf. It was a very light yellow colour, almost white and it was named ‘Sunny White’. Clark held it towards Bruce. “What do you think?” The milkcow didn’t answer and after a few silent seconds, Clark put the can back in its place. “Okay, okay… and… what about this one?” The colour was a very light blue named ‘Hope’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark waited and Bruce finally sighed and shook his head. He slowly moved towards the other part of the aisle, scrutinising the cans, and then he tentatively pointed at one with his finger. It was a very dark grey, almost black, colour named ‘Dark Knight’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark smiled, picking up the can. “Okay, I’m on board with whatever colour you want, Bruce! Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked around and then, shook his head, looking down. Clark thought it was cute how shy he was being, or at least he hoped it was shyness and not fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear of Clark, since now he was the milkcow’s master. Maybe Bruce was still wary of him? Clark was trying his best to show him that he could trust him and relax near him. But then, they didn’t know each other for a long time and Clark had to accept Bruce’s reluctance towards him and work on it slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said, “Anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else do we need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh well… maybe you wanted wallpapers? We could do one wall wallpapered if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce looked away. “It would be a waste of money,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark scratched his neck and sighed. “No, it wouldn’t be.” He slowly turned and started walking towards the wallpaper section. There were plenty of different models, from fake brick patterns ones to fake exotic leaf ones. “Which one?” he asked, glancing at the milkcow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce stared at the papers, then looked at him and slowly put his hands on top of Clark’s, which were holding the can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The paint is enough. Those papers are too pricey and you still have repair work for the farm to pay. Save your money, Clark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark’s eyes widened in surprise. “How?” he asked, because he couldn’t understand how the milkcow knew about the repair works. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night,” answered Bruce and it was clear that Clark had to draw his own conclusions from these two words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said as he nodded. Indeed, he could use the money by ordering patches instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slowly went to the entrance of the store where Joshua was behind the counter, looking at his phone again. He immediately let go of it as he heard their steps and smiled. “Is there anything I can help you with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I want to order some patches. You still do that, right?” Clark put the two cans of paint on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do,” replied Joshua as he pulled out a PVC file folder from the rack behind him and opened it on the counter. “Here you can decide the size, thread colour and all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded. “Yeah, okay, I need something around this size,” he said and pointed at the patch on Bruce’s coat. “But with ‘Kent Farm’ embroidered.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joshua leaned forward to see better the patch and nodded. “Yeah, we can do that. Just let me look closer</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at that point, everything went so fast, Clark didn’t know how he managed to act so quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joshua grabbed Bruce’s coat, near the patch, to inspect it, and doing that, he pulled the milkcow towards him. That deeply unpleased Bruce who tried to headbutt him for that. But Clark managed in time to hold one of his horns and pull back Bruce. However, by doing so, the other horn scrapped his temple and Clark started bleeding heavily everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark let go of Bruce and pressed against his temple as Joshua screamed. Clark wasn’t able to see clearly, he couldn’t open one of his eyes because of the blood but he managed to see the teenager gathering tissues panickedly and rounding the counter to come to his help. He tried to tell him that he was okay but Joshua pressed some of the tissues to his temple, and he tried with the others to clean the spilled blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I call nine-one-one?” he asked and his voice had gone up two octaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Clark, trying to calm down Joshua. “No need. I’ll go to the cottage hospital 一”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you even see?” asked the boy and Clark had to admit he couldn’t. He couldn’t open his eyes correctly because of the blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll manage,” he mumbled. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How? The hospital is a ten-minute drive from here… Okay, sir, I’ll drive, okay? Do you have a car? Because I don’t, but if you have one, I’ll drive!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said as he pulled out the keys of the truck from his jean’s back pocket. “Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy took it, closed the store and helped him walk to the truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce?” asked Clark as they were getting in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” said a little voice that Clark was sure he wouldn’t have recognised. It was so small and fragile, unlike Bruce’s usual stern voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s feeling guilty,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he understood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They managed to arrive at the hospital in six minutes, thanks to Joshua speeding. A nurse at the reception immediately helped them and an hour later, Clark’s face was cleaned and his wound sutured. Joshua had gone back to the store after the doctor had reassured him, explaining that there was nothing to worry about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce had sat on a chair in the far corner of the room during the whole medical examination, his head low, his hands on his lap. He hadn’t spoken either while on their  drive to home. He hadn’t said a word until finally Clark had asked him a question once they were in the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We couldn’t buy the paint and tomorrow’s Sunday. You’ll have to stay in the guest room a bit longer. It’s okay, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce had taken his time before answering. “It is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still not meeting Clark’s eyes and the man sighed. “Look, I’m not angry, okay?” he tried to reassure the milkcow. “It was an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t look up. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Clark waited for him, and finally the milkcow spoke: “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark nodded, but he remembered Bruce wasn’t looking at him and thus couldn’t see it. He had to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t really pondered yet about what had happened. In retrospection, it was bad. He had trusted Bruce but had understood that he couldn’t. But Bruce wasn’t the culprit, Clark was. The milkcow was under his trusteeship. Clark should have known Bruce could have headbutted anyone, Harrison had warned him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he needed to talk with the milkcow about his behaviour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce, look at me,” he ordered in a soft voice and the milkcow obeyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears held tensely upright and forwards and they jittered, as he was playing with the hem of his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruce, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> take you out for a long time. Not until you’ll prove me you won’t headbutt anyone at any moment. I can’t take that risk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m really sorry for hurting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed. “And for the boy?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t say anything, and Clark noticed he was</span>
  <em>
    <span> genuinely</span>
  </em>
  <span> surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re also sorry for the boy, right? You tried to headbutt him. You could have hurt him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulled</span>
  </em>
  <span> me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not something serious enough to</span>
  <em>
    <span> headbutt</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone for. He pulled you, not assaulted you. I understand that upset you but you could have just told him directly to not touch you, or you could have told me and I would have taken the required actions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark took a deep breath and sighed. He needed to calm down. He needed to be patient with Bruce. Clearly Bruce hadn’t thought about the consequences of his actions and had acted on a strong emotion. Bruce didn’t look like he could hurt someone just to hurt them, just for the pleasure of it. No, he surely had tried to protect himself from Joshua. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly stepped towards the milkcow and hugged him. “Bruce, you could have</span>
  <em>
    <span> killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> him if I hadn’t intervened,” he said with a soft voice, caressing the cow’s back. “Tell me, did you try to headbutt him because you were angry or because you were scared, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce hugged him back but didn’t answer. He hid his face in Clark’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which was it?” he asked again and kissed Bruce’s head’s top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So both scared and angry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Feeling helpless and trying to defend himself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Joshua hadn’t deserved to be headbutted, even if he shouldn’t have pulled the milkcow, but Clark could understand Bruce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caressed his back a bit, then kissed the top of his head again. “Go and change, okay? Take a shower and all. We’ll prepare dinner, and then watch some movies maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce pulled back and looked at him. His ears were loosely held backwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really not angry,” he repeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce kept looking in his eyes, then slowly pulled back completely, and climbed the stairs, turning to look back for a second once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clark sighed as he watched him go up. He touched his bandage. It hurt and the doctor had said it was going to leave a scar, but that  wasn’t important for him. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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